Dragon's Storm (Legion Of Angels #4)(56)

A flash of fire danced across my peripheral vision. I turned to see Nero toss me a flaming sword. I caught it and swung it around. The dark angel’s sword met mine. And his was on fire too. Dark elemental magic raged like a firestorm across his blade.

“Windstriker,” the dark angel growled, pushing his sword hard against mine to throw me off balance.

He drew a figure-eight pattern in the air with his sword. The flaming symbol pulsed once, then the gate to the cavern opened. Dozens more of the Dark Force’s soldiers poured inside, rushing at Nero and Harker. The dark angel didn’t give me a chance to contemplate their fate. He struck at me. Our blades clashed with a blinding bang. Holding onto my sword, choking on the stench of sulfur, I watched in horror as the flames jumped from his sword to mine. The fire slid down my blade with liquid ease. I bit back the pain as the fiery spell bit into my hand.

Surprise flashed across his face when I didn’t drop my weapon. I took advantage of that brief moment of confusion and swung my sword. Powered by the elemental spell Nero had cast on the blade, it chipped a piece off the dark angel’s armor. His beautiful face twisted into a vicious scowl. A telekinetic burst pulsed out of him, hitting me against the wall with the force of a high-speed train. Pain exploded from my ribcage, trickling down my left side.

“This is impossible,” the dark angel said as I rose to my feet and moved toward him.

I stuck a big smirk over the throbbing beat of agony inside of me. “I have a lot of practice wrestling angels.”

“I am a dark angel.”

My eyes darted to my flaming sword. The telekinetic blast had knocked it right out of my hands. It was now on the other side of the dark angel, too far out of my reach.

“Angel, dark angel.” I shrugged. “Same game, different toys.”

“You are a Legion soldier,” he said with a hard face. Clearly, my attempts at humor didn’t tickle his funny bone. “That blast should have knocked you out.”

“And miss this party? No way.” I wiped the blood from my nose. The impact had hurt like hell.

The dark angel moved like liquid steel. I avoided the brunt of his blow, but the tail end of the punch tore across my battered ribcage. I fell to my knees, coughing up blood.

“Impossible,” he said again as I stood, his eyes wide. “You’re weak against dark magic.”

I grabbed my whip and attacked. The lightning-charged tail cut through the air and coiled around his leg. I gave it a solid tug, pulling him off balance. He hit the ground with a satisfying thump.

“And you are a dark angel,” I told him. “Weak against light magic.”

He was already on his feet. “You’re resistant to dark magic.” Gold flashed across his pale eyes. “There’s darkness in you, not just light magic.”

I swung the whip again. Fire followed on the tail of lightning, eating into his armor. Another crimson chunk of metal hit the ground with a resounding clunk. I tried to followup with another attack, but the electric whip was out of juice. It had taken too much magic out of it to zap a dark angel. What just moments ago had been a roaring thunder, was now hardly more than a weak sizzle. I tossed the weapon aside. He struck at me with his sword, but his misshapen armor slowed him down—and lately I’d been practicing how to steal my opponents’ weapons. I swung my pilfered sword at him, sprinkling him with tiny flames. A few of them landed on the exposed pieces of his undershirt, visible through the damaged armor.

“And you can wield dark magic,” he said, calmly patting out the tiny flames on his shirt.

He was right. Only someone with dark magic could swing that sword without the flames going out. A slow, calculated grin spread across his lips. His hand flashed out, knocking my sword to the ground. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. My chest slammed into the wall of his armor, dealing a fresh dose of pain to my battered ribs. His arms locked around me like a cage, pinning my arms to my sides. He lowered his head to mine and drew in a deep breath.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, kicking at him.

His feet moved quickly, deflecting my kicks. His hard heels came down on my boots. Now I couldn’t move my feet either.

“Shh,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper against my ear. “This will hurt less if you don’t struggle.”

Panic surged inside of me, panic born from the uncertainty of not knowing what he was going to do—and from the certainty of knowing that whatever it was, I wouldn’t like it. Twin peaks of pain pierced my throat. The bastard had bitten me! I pushed against his hold, trying to shake him off, but I might as well have tried to move a mountain. Hot, volcanic agony shot through my veins like a river of acid. My blood boiled, my skin broke out in a sweat. I’d never experienced a torment like this. It felt like I was being burned alive from the inside.

And then it was over. The dark angel pulled back. “Incredible,” he said, licking a drop of my blood from his lips. “Was it good for you too?” His icy eyes shone with unapologetic cruelty—and with something else. Victory. They shone with victory.

“Stay back, you psychopath,” I snapped, snatching up his sword from the ground. The flames surged with a fury that matched my mood perfectly. I swung the blade at him, and the fire streaked through the air, screeching like a bird of prey.

“Incredible,” he repeated, jumping back. His eyes darted to my throat. Silver slid over his icy irises. His tongue flicked out to slowly trace his lips.